Regeneration in Two Parts
by ada511
Summary: 2 standalone snippets of how 11 might turn to 12. Heavily 11/Clara centric, assumed romantic relationship already confirmed. These two snippets do not go together - they are two versions of how 11 could turn to 12 and what would happen to the romance with Clara immediately afterward. *tear jerker* Simply trying to get some of my mourning out of my mind and onto a page.
1. Chapter 1

**Author: ada511**

**Summary: Two standalone snippets of how 11 turns to 12. Centered around Clara and a romance that had already been confirmed between them. These stories do NOT go together. They are two versions of how 11 might turn to 12 and again, there is no plot except for regeneration and romance. **

**Author's Note: I find myself being very cliche and very much mourning the end of 11. In particular I have been so in love with 11/Clara it is really really hard to let go. These snippets (again they are NOT connected - just two versions of one event) are simply cathartic for me, I have no idea if anyone else will find them helpful to illicit a little cry and then move on. I'm just trying to wrap my head around this so that when the time comes I won't fall completely to pieces, because I want to like the next Doctor, I want the next chapter to be brilliant even while I mourn the last. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe.**

**Notes: In this version of regeneration - death/regeneration has come upon The Doctor and Clara suddenly. **

He felt the power coursing through him - the gold dust of regeneration already starting to puff out of his pores like clouds. He looked over at Clara. She was staring at him - paralyzed at the closed door of the Tardis. They were already gone. Already safe... well... Clara was, the Tardis was and... he hoped his future was. With effort, he pushed away from the console. He couldn't bear his last moments as himself, this self, to be so far from her - from Clara. Ignoring all notice of regeneration safety, he walked straight down the stairs and took her face - her beautiful lovely face in his hands - and kissed her.

This was where he wanted his last moments to be - with his Impossible Girl, with his Clara. He tried to savor the eternity in each second. She was grasping onto his hands as if he would float away with the dust. Finally, when he could stand the pain no longer, he broke away from her, tears running down his face, no shame, no pride, "Clara Oswald, I love you. I love you."

She tried desperately to hold onto him, but the waves of energy coursing from him made it impossible, "I love you Doctor, please... " She followed him as he stumbled around the Tardis; knowing what was happening though they rarely ever spoke of it. Regeneration. Now. She shook her head, trying to clear the reality- trying to make it a nightmare that she could wake up from. She was injured, though she couldn't feel it then. Her body was numb and her heart was burning. She stumbled forward, pushing through the pure gold energy to grab his hand. She looked into his face, contorted in pain and tried to keep her face calm and loving and reassuring, "I'm here! I'm here... I'm here."

She said it as a mantra as the energy finally became too much for either of them to bear. It was one last look, one last touch of their fingertips and the world became blinding light. Clara dropped to her knees to shield her face. She could not see him, she could not see The Doctor.

Moments turned to minutes. She heard him - the new Doctor- yelling, and it tore her heart into rags. She was sobbing though she didn't even notice, murmuring her love for him, pleading with him not to let this happen; she was nearly unconscious of what she was saying- only that she couldn't stop herself from saying it. And then... the light was gone. There was an unnatural stillness and she knew; Clara knew that it was over. She stopped talking. Her Doctor was gone... And no matter how much she didn't want it to be true, she knew that it was.

The Doctor stared down at the familiar grating of the Tardis and did the usual physical inspection much faster than normal. For the first time after regenerating the thought paramount and first in his mind was not for himself - his new self. For once, there was someone else he was much, much more worried about. He got to his knees - stayed crouched, wanting to get his bearings and looked for her.

There she was - his Impossible Girl. She would, in some sense or another, be all of his regeneration's special savior - but it was this last life in which he'd truly met her - his last life in which he'd fallen in love with her and it was this new life that he intended to spend loving her.

He didn't even know how old he looked at the moment - not what color his hair was or if he had a distinctive chin. He frowned, her teasing of that particular feature had been... ridiculously special to him. To her... what would she think of him now? Would she be able to make the transition?

The Doctor could not be sure.

All that he was sure of was that the next few minutes would be important. And that nothing he had ever done was as important to him in these next minutes than making them count. He would figure out the rest later. Like what sort of man he was and how he liked his toast prepared.

The Doctor watched her, still on her knees, covering her face. And he waited. He waited for her.

She could hear breathing. Heavy breathing. Was he okay? And it was then, and only then, that she was brave enough to take her hands away from her face. She felt nauseous, and afraid, and so so sad, but she had to stuff it away and look. She simply had to.

"Clara." He spoke as soon as their eyes met. Her face still bore the scars from their last battle - smeared with soot, a long scrape that had nearly gotten her eye, and now tears had cut paths down her cheeks. Her eyes were swollen and red and he wasn't sure if she was aware that her side was still bleeding.

She shouldn't have been surprised that she felt some recognition - one of her echoes had surely come across this Doctor. The prick of recognition was enough to remind her of who she was and what sort of person she would always be. She pushed herself shakily to her feet, grabbed onto the railing tentatively, "Doctor?" She started up the stairs, intent on helping him, "Doctor, are you all right?"

There he was. The stranger with the soul of The Doctor. Looking, just then, just a little dangerous with the intensity of his gaze, the sweat from pain on his face. She swallowed the revulsion at the thought that she would never see her Doctor again and redoubled her efforts to be helpful. She dropped down again to her knees to look him over, to look for the wound that had caused his regeneration in the first place. Though the long gash in his coat and shirt still existed, the wound, of course, did not.

The Doctor's relief that she could come to him still was incalculable, it made him loose with his words, "Clara; so brave...my-" He stopped... was she still his? Hands shaking, she withdrew them and cautiously looked in his eyes. He touched the blood on her cheek, "Clara - are you certain you're okay?"

She nodded, this new voice alien to her. In fact, The Doctor had never been as alien to her than he was right now. In unison they started to stand - The Doctor using the railing instead of her as support- still feeling that every step he made would determine the direction of their relationship.

He rose to his full height, found that he still had a good advantage over her in that respect, and stared at her from his new eyes as she stared at him with her swollen ones. Without meaning to, he broke into a smile; he was about to say she was just as beautiful with these new eyes as with the last set but he wasn't sure of her... not yet.

Clara touched the railing, unsure of where her hands should go; unsure of what her role was with him. Ten minutes ago he had kissed her - as his last act in his life he had kissed her and she had told him she loved him. But that wasn't this man... not completely.

Still... the way he was looking at her did not lack love, did not lack concern.

Clara pushed the hopeless mourning even further from her conscious mind and tried to concentrate on the new man - the new Doctor in front of her. She reached out her hand slowly (carefully) and touched his face experimentally. She smiled at him gently, "Hello."

He smiled back at her, "Hello Clara."

"What do we do now?"

He reached up with his hand to cover hers on his face, pressed it against him then took hold of it and brought it down between them, "Honestly? We eat. I'm Starving. Famished. Completely in need of nourishment."

She smiled wider at that, letting the feel of him holding her hand settle with her, "Well... I should think I could handle that." The pain in her heart seemed to be settling somewhere in her gut, she squeezed his hand, signalling him that she was about to break contact but he didn't let her go, not right away. She looked up at him again.

"I still love you Clara. That hasn't changed. Not one bit."

Clara's eyes filled with tears. How did you mourn the passing of someone that was still, in essence, before you- Still declaring their love for you? She couldn't help the crying, but before he would have pulled her into his arms and she knew that this Doctor wasn't sure if he was allowed that luxury yet.

Clara wiped her eyes and she stepped forward; one step was enough. He pulled her the rest of the way into a hug. It was the first time in her brief aqaintance with him that she understood that he had been holding back. His embrace - his first contact with anyone ever - she didn't want to reject him. Because she would never have rejected him before he'd changed.

She closed her eyes, tried to imagine, tried to understand. Snatches of stolen memories - memories from the lives of some of her echoes fluttered through her mind. Had her feelings been any different then? With Doctors who were long past - had she cared less for them because she hadn't traveled with them? And her Doctor - had he cared any less for her echoes?

The answer did not even need thinking on. The answer was no.

She held onto him a bit longer, desperately trying to keep herself from comparing the bodies of the men she loved. She pushed away, but held onto his shoulders, prepared herself from the shock of seeing this different face, "Thank you."

"For what? Not for loving you?"

"No," Clara had to laugh softly at that, "No. For saving my life."

"Anytime."

"Are you really okay?"

"Good as new. Except... Clara... please..."

Clara readied for the blow of a request too intimate to handle, "Yes Doctor?" The name didn't stick in her throat like she worried it would.

He reached forward to cure her face, "The regeneration is still on my skin, let me... help you." Slowly, carefully, without getting too intimate, he ran his hands along her body at the points that she had just started to feel the burn from the wounds sustained on their last adventure... truly their last. Clara swallowed and looked down at her feet. Still looking concerned he took his hands away, "Better?"

"Much." When would she stop crying at the drop of a hat? She smiled encouragingly, trying to ignore her own tears.

The Doctor nodded in acknowledgement of the unspoken sadness in her eyes. Grabbing her hand, he led her back to the console where he switched a few levers and turned a few dials, "Breakfast?"

And just then, finally, she could see him - the core - the man she'd saved a thousand times over in a thousand lives. She nodded her head in confirmation and agreed, "Breakfast."

Something in him sighed in relief. It wasn't much, not even a promise really - but it was a start. And the only good thing about ending one thing was the possibility - the hope of starting something new.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author: ada511**

**Summary: Two standalone snippets of how 11 turns to 12. Centered around Clara and a romance that had already been confirmed between them. These stories do NOT go together. They are two versions of how 11 might turn to 12 and again, there is no plot except for regeneration and romance.**

******Author's Note: I find myself being very cliche and very much mourning the end of 11. In particular I have been so in love with 11/Clara it is really really hard to let go. These snippets (again they are NOT connected - just two versions of one event) are simply cathartic for me, I have no idea if anyone else will find them helpful to illicit a little cry and then move on. I'm just trying to wrap my head around this so that when the time comes I won't fall completely to pieces, because I want to like the next Doctor, I want the next chapter to be brilliant even while I mourn the last.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe.**

**Notes: Part II: In this version The Doctor has had a longer time to prepare himself and Clara for the upcoming regeneration.**

The Tardis made a slow arc across space in a time and a place where no other living creature nor entity would be. It was a particularly dark part of space and time. For the Tardis was in mourning. Inside her shell her Doctor lay dying. And his Impossible Girl attended him.

Between the wall and his arm about Clara's shoulders The Doctor made slow progress to his bed. It was time to lay down. It really was. And he really should stop fighting it. But as much as he honored Time, he was not slave to it. He paused, leaned up against the wall and waited for Clara to turn to look at him. Still in the crook of his arm, she did turn toward him, putting her hand against one of his hearts, waiting; assuming he was resting.

He put his head back against the cool metal, "You must take shelter, I've already told you that, yeah? The energy can be quite intense."

Clara pat his chest, "Only a hundred times."

"And you've got to wait - make sure I'm all right before you come to me. Sometimes it can go wrong. I woke up one time and tried to hurt someone... I can't let that happen this time. You can't let me let that happen this time." His voice was getting weaker, but he couldn't let himself stop - there was still so much to say, "The Tardis will know what to do if I need rest, which I should... I'm not sure how long - it's hard to say - last time - not that long. Hm... Last time, not at all. Well, we'll see. No way to tell at the moment."

Clara nodded, he'd been trying to cram in every possible detail about regeneration into the last week. Their last week together as they were... forever. Clara had been strong thus far, but it had cost her dearly. She hadn't let herself cry, couldn't; because if she started, she wouldn't stop - Not ever as far as she could tell. "I love you." She blurted it out while he was still speaking and he only heard her words halfway through his next sentence.

He stopped, took hold of her face as he loved to do, "And I love you Clara Oswald. From the beginning until eternity." He kissed her. His hands memorizing her face and neck as if it were she that would change and not him.

When he pulled away to rest she pressed her lips against his hands, kissing them over and over again until he pushed away from the wall, "If we don't get me down now you'll be stuck with me on the ground."

Was it her imagination or did his skin already shine slightly golden? She tried not to look, simply helped him into bed, put the covers over him and pulled her chair over. This is how they went to bed every night since the poisoning. Except this night was different. Clara felt it.

She held onto one of his hands with both of hers, "Now, what story would you like tonight?"

The Doctor grinned through the exhaustion clear in his face, "You are not my nanny."

"No... then what am I?"

The Doctor tried to reach up to stroke her cheek but couldn't make it. She helped him, "You're my Clara." She put her head down on his chest, listened to his hearts stutter and beat frantically in turn.

He winced suddenly and she popped her head up, her tears had started despite her best efforts to contain them. She didn't try to stop them now. He looked at her as if she was his only concern, "Are you ready my love?"

"How can you ask?" She asked as lightly as she could; trying desperately to hold it together for him; to be brave for him, "Please Doctor, please can't you stay?"

The Doctor caught a tear from her cheek, touched his thumb to her lips, "Brave heart, Clara. Trust me. Love...?"

"I do - I love you."

"No Clara... will you love me... after I'm gone?"

"Of course!" Clara was frantically trying to memorize every detail of his face; but it was pointless, she knew him, she knew his face like nothing else in the world and yet, how long could she hold onto it? It was definitely not her imagination: Gold dust was hovering above his skin now, it would not be long. She touched his arms, his chest, "Is there anything I can do?"

"Run Clara. It's happening. Run now."

The gold started streaming from him - like great branches of a liquid tree. She couldn't feel heat - only power - energy. She had promised to leave the room. She had promised to be safe. She held onto his hand again, tight, "No Doctor. I'm staying here. I'm staying with you."

The Doctor's face was suddenly full of anxiety, "No! No, Clara, you promised."

With a very little sparkle in her eye she shook her head, "I lied."

He tried to throw her off, but it was no good, he was too weak. "Clara..."

"I'm here. Doctor, I'm here..."

"Clara!"

There was a huge explosion of light. Clara was thrown back off of her chair but she scrambled back to the bed; reaching up blindly for one more touch of the fingertips - one more moment with her Doctor. Then, time stopped.

It was dark in comparison and quiet. Clara's throat burned and she couldn't hold back the flood any longer. Without looking, without opening her eyes she knelt on her hands and knees and she cried. She couldn't think past the pain, couldn't hope past the despair. She clutched onto the floor and wished it would swallow her whole, anything to stop her heart from hurting like this.

She didn't now how long she sat there. She felt as if her whole body was mourning; she was shaking and she didn't want to face the reality of what had just happened. A week was not enough time to prepare. A lifetime would not have been enough time to accept saying goodbye to The Doctor.

After awhile she became aware that she was not alone. Of course she wasn't - she knew she couldn't be. But not only was she not alone in the room, but someone's hand was on her shoulder. Someone was kneeling beside her in her pain. With a monumental effort of self will Clara started to pull herself together.

She tried not to make it obvious that she was trying very hard not to look at the man beside her, "I'm s-s-supposed to be the one taking care of you."

"You are not my nanny." his voice was deeper, and … very kind.

Clara was shocked to hear a laugh escape from her lips. Even though it was not his voice, they were his words. He would still be The Doctor. He simply wouldn't be her Doctor.

Slowly, she turned her face to look at him.

He moved the hair out of her face as she did and raised his eyebrows at her, "Well?"

Clara let out another sort of laugh as she studied him. She nodded to his face, "Very handsome."

He put a hand to his face, pushed the skin around, "Hmm, are you sure? Doesn't feel handsome."

Clara touched his chin with her thumb, "Well, you've got a normal chin, I don't know how I feel about that. And your eyes are a lovely shade of blue - quite the contrast to your hair."

He frowned, "Oh dear, I sound positively boring."

Clara made as if to rise and he sprung up, holding out a hand to help her up. Then dropped her hand and went to the mirror to have a look. Not bad. Not pretty - so that was something. He turned his face this way and that, made faces at himself, yes, he could work with this.

He saw Clara's reflection in the mirror, watching him. His hearts gave a sad thump thump, causing him to rub at his chest.

Clara saw the move and wrung her hands, "Is something the matter? Do you need to lie back down? I've hot water for tea and ten different flavors for you to test out what you like."

He shook his head as he took off his coat, threw it on the bed, and rolled up his sleeves, "I'm fine, Clara. Really."

"Okay." Clara swallowed over a lump in her throat, "Well. All the same, I should... leave you to rest."

He nodded back sadly, "If you like."

Clara stopped, her back to him already, "I - I didn't say-"

"I know but -" The Doctor took a step towards her, "Look, Clara, there are two ways I see this going. Either I give you time to... grieve the me you knew and to get used to this ugly mug... All the while biding my time, keeping my feelings secret from you for fear of pushing you away. Or we... face this head on, pardon the pun. And I tell you that I still love you; That I can't imagine not loving you. And that really, I will be totally useless trying that first plan as I've just demonstrated. Clara... please...Is the face so hard to look at?"

She turned, tears brimming in her eyes, "Of course not, Doctor. I've seen it before, after all. From what I remember... you will be a very good Doctor."

He took another step and reached out for her face, testing them both with this favorite gesture of fondess. The tears flowed down her cheeks now but she looked him in the eye, "Brave Clara," The Doctor smirked affectionately as he wiped tears from her face with his thumb then took a step away, "Not everything has to end, does it? Not love. Not for us."

Clara stared at his face, knowing he was giving her a choice. She looked down at the ground. Tried to get her bearings, her thoughts together. She believed him - that the love that her Doctor had held for her had not disappeared with his face. But... suddenly his last words - her Doctor's last question to her seemed to hold different meaning. He wasn't asking her to love him in memory. He had asked if she would love him when he had become someone new.

On impulse, and with every ounce of bravery she possessed she reached out her hand and grabbed his. He looked at her in surprise, and she smiled at him tentatively, "I had to let you go earlier... and it was the hardest thing I've ever done... before this."

"I'm sorry."

Clara looked at the purple coat cast aside on the bed, then, with more confidence now, she took his other hand and saw the emotion plain on his face - this strange, strong face that was her future, "I've got hold of you again... You said - don't you remember? You said - the secret was to hold hands... and not to let go."

The Doctor nodded gravely, "I remember."

After a few long moments of staring at each other, Clara raised her eyebrows, and swung his hands side to side, "You'll have to tell me when you get hungry though."

The Doctor winked, "I'm famished. But-" He kept her from pulling her hands away, "I only need one hand to eat."

She nodded, "Okay then... Doctor. Time to find out who you are!"


End file.
